A dawn chorus of unfamiliar birdsong woke me before first light. I had slept well despite the night sounds of a nightjar and the heavy breathing of unseen animals beyond my tent. Before exhaustion finally claimed me, a feeling of inevitability had washed over me.
we can't change circumstances
embracing moments
taking stock
we are either the hunter or the hunted
what part do we play
in the dance of life?
(Mt Bonaparte, July 4th)
Land of the free, home of the brave
Mt Bonaparte in the distance
With its mottled slopes of green
New Riders croon Robert Hunter songs
To the sound of a pedal steel
A cool breeze blows
Big fluffy white clouds
In procession across the open clear blue
Expanse of heaven
No red but what flows in our veins
Dogs laying in the shade of the Winnie
As contented as only dogs can be
While I soak it all in
The canned music, the mountain view,
The canine contentment
The liquid songs of Meadow Larks
And a breeze that blows all my troubles away
Might just be time for another IPA
Happy Birthday America!
(7/3/26)
I sit in my home and I often pine
For the forest scent
Three days in my smelly tent and I moan
For my bed at home
A tent or a mansion, why do I care
I’m not quite happy neither here nor there
Mr Benjamin Khazi from Libya
who went by 'Ben' we are taught
when wanting to loosen his load
if ever he were caught short
designed a camping commode
as a potentially preferable portable place
to park his portly posterior
then had them manufactured en masse
with a motive quite ulterior
for he turned his thought into gold
altho' on a whim yet going out on a limb
more than several such stools were sold
which aptly were named 'Khazi' after him
Helpless eyes -
my dog sits, unmoving.
Hundreds of
mosquitos
feast on unreachable sites.
I can do nothing.
I once had a friend named Kishore,
Who during sleep always did snore;
One day he went for camping,
He staged his feat while sleeping,
Eversince, friends called him a bore.
Boys' annual weekend camping trip.
It's been a year of forest fires.
~ Had to see for ourselves.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2025
“Wake up, breakfast is cooking.”
Bacon in cast iron skillet,
sounds and smells, wafted through the tent.
“Coming”, the crackling bacon got me!
Not your ordinary, average date,
a country ramble,
a stile a gate,
and here's the pitch,
“We won't go far, or stay up late.”
Now he and she sitting silently,
beside the flickering fire,
innocently she believes, camping separately
within tent, is where they will retire.
But his fuse was lit
when first they met,
longingly he knows and yet,
that's not what's on his mind,
nor what he really meant,
hoping she'll yield in the field,
he's bent on camping with intent.
Once upon a time, it was a good day to be camping with the friends,
We stroll into the campgrounds, put the logs into the firepit,
Light the fire in the fire pit, get out our marshmallows,
We sit on the makeshift benches, we have the ingredients,
To make our Mountain Dew glow in the dark,
We exchange ghost stories as we roast our marshmallows,
We hold our soul mates hands, as we sip our sodas,
Some of our soul mates jump, startled by,
Mike’s ghost story as he performs with his body language,
the mysterious ghost of Darkwood cemetery,
our soul mates suddenly jumps,
a shooting star passes over as we gaze at the stars,
brightly shining, we wish upon the star,
as we gaze into each other’s eyes and wish upon the star,
that, we be soul mates forever,
Oh, yeah, it was a good day to be camping with the friends.
he brove a garrid oom
deemotted uve
and lookied goom
eek eek
he seddle as
his bladed morble
hoom
around the camp fire
all agogged
this tale hooed
awoy awoy
then fobble fo
such gory scary
tooed
he brove a garrid oom
his beast now dead
by morble blade
hay hay
to victory
and all aglad
they stayed
Whispered greetings as shadows scatter.
Dew dripping as light gently crawls down the trees.
Murmurs of friends old and new rising into the dawn.
My cup full of more than love, warmth, relief, coffee.
A slideshow of yesterday flits gently through my mind.
Hugging with my chest not my arms.
No masking required only me.
Vulnerability, nakedness, a round of applause.
Smiles in the eyes, no strangers.
Great outfit, I love your…, yours too.
See you on the dancefloor.
Tis a true story I have to tell ye
About a haunted house that so scared me.
We went camping in the mountains one day.
It was sometime in April or in May.
We hiked hard into the darkening wood
And found an old mansion that still stood.
We decided to camp inside that night.
Something happened that gave us a huge fright.
We sat on the porch in the waning light
hearing voices that our fears did excite.
We heard someone walking about the house,
But when we looked, t’were not even a mouse.
Later, something threw a log on the floor.
There was a chopping sound, we stood no more.
We ran up the mountain ‘way from that place.
That house was sure haunted, that was the case.
There are owls out here.
They are barn owls.
The ground is hard and rocky.
It is.
Sleeping is for my bed.
The ground is not a bed.
At home?
My mom makes pancakes in the morning.
I would never see her make them, I would sleep in too late.
I could look out my window.
My window that allows the moonlight in, but keeps bugs out. When I go camping?
We have fire.
We have tangled sleeping bags.
And...
We have firewood.
So more fire.
At home, I had a sleep schedule.
But tonight?
I need good luck.
I also need new socks, one has a hole.
I think there’s pretzels in that bag that casts a shadow outside... But tonight.
That shadow might be a bear.
But tonight.
We don’t have luck.
We have camping.
Nature is fantastic
Plus so much food
Add friends
And a bottle of vodka
To complete the moment.
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